


Culture

by ArgylePirateWD



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mpreg, Pregnant John Reese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23163826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArgylePirateWD/pseuds/ArgylePirateWD
Summary: "Just becauseyouare an uncultured heathen doesn't mean our offspring must follow suit."
Relationships: Harold Finch/John Reese
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	Culture

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt _Any, any, a dude is pregnant_ for the [Happy Distracting Comment Fest](https://sholio.dreamwidth.org/1317420.html)

"I think she might be kind of young for Dickens, Harold," John teases, even as he leans back against the stack of obscenely soft pillows Harold bought for him— _spoiled him with_ —and eagerly tugs up his sweatshirt, absently running a hand over the curve of his belly in the wake of his shirt. He can't help ruffling Harold's feathers. He knows how Harold's going to react, and it will be _great_.

Sure enough, Harold heaves a long-suffering sigh and scowls at him over his glasses as he lowers himself onto the bed, setting a copy of Great Expectations that looks older than the both of them put together on John's chest along the way. "Just because _you_ are an uncultured heathen doesn't mean our offspring must follow suit."

John doesn't bother biting back a shameless grin, while Harold settles in next to him, face level with John's belly, and presses a kiss to the swell. A tiny foot or fist thumps against Harold's mouth, and Harold's entire face transforms with his sweet, brilliant smile. "Oh!" he says, delighted, and lays a hand on John's middle, palm warm and gentle on John's skin. "Hello in there! Hello!"

As Harold talks to the kid, John's eyes start to sting. Somehow, he's fallen into this incredible life that he doesn't deserve, and he loves it and feels so undeserving of it that it _hurts_. He still doesn't know how he got pregnant, still doesn't get how he's even worthy of such a thing, but he thinks he might be getting used to the weird parts. Slowly. The rest, though...

He's not sure he's ever going to get used to being this happy.

"You gonna call her things like 'offspring' once she's here?" he asks, wiping his eyes on his sleeves and shoving his thoughts aside, his voice shaky and rough.

"Mm, perhaps," Harold replies, and traces the path of their kid's movements with his hand. Even though Harold keeps saying the pregnancy's weird, and has been scouring the darkest and deepest corners of the internet for months trying to figure out what the hell is going on, he always seems to be looking for excuses to rub John's belly, and can barely keep his hands away when their daughter starts kicking. "I'm also partial to 'alien spawn,' considering the strange circumstances of this pregnancy, or perhaps even something on the more...paranormal side of things."

John's heart clenches with affection, but—god, _Harold_. John can't help but laugh.

Harold leans back and gives him a baffled look. "What?"

"Sometimes you're just so... _you_." John runs a hand through Harold's soft, spiky hair, then cups Harold's cheek in his palm, and traces his thumb over Harold's lips. "I like it, though."

"You're carrying my child," Harold points out, and kisses the pad of John's thumb. "I'd hope that means you like me at least a _tiny_ bit."

John loves him, so much it feels like it's going to be the death of him sometimes. "Maybe a little."


End file.
